The Nature of Evil
by shock n' awe
Summary: An evil force has slowly rekindled in the belly of Amestris over the past five years, but the perpetrator doesn't want the Philosopher's Stone... not anymore. Eventual Roy/Ed. Plot heavy. Warnings and details inside.
1. Overture

_**WARNING**: Will contain graphic violence, fowl language, and some sexual content._

_**DETAILS**: This story takes place five years after Edward Elric's disappearance in the 2003 anime, with some slight alterations: Roy still has both eyes, and when Alphonse returns to his body, he is still 17 years old._

**I HAVE NOT watched FMA: Brotherhood. Any correlations to that arc are merely coincidental. This is not a crossover. **

* * *

_My surface is myself.  
__Under which  
__to witness, youth is  
__buried. Roots?  
__...Everybody has roots._

- William Carlos Williams

Chapter 1: Overture

* * *

It is just a quiet hum at first, hardly noticeable, like the dull purring of an engine from a couple blocks away. His heart leaps into his throat and he looks towards the sky, which is perpetually painted a disheartening shade of gray. A flock of birds take flight, gliding across the silvery expanse like black, shattered glass – they don't make a sound. Another flock soon follows. And then another.

The street, once buzzing with the energy of everyday affairs, grows quiet. The mechanical droll becomes louder. One by one, the pedestrians crane their necks towards the dreary February sky as their ears catch the sound – even the shopkeepers come out of their stores to look up.

That's when the sirens begin to sound. They crescendo into an ominous, chilling wail that echoes throughout the city. But it's too late- _the sirens are too late_-

'_We are all going to die.'_

Somewhere, a baby begins to cry.

As if snapping out of some sort of hypnosis, the civilians scatter, like roaches in the light.

The gravel crunches under his boot clad feet as he runs for his life; his lungs burn as he rounds the street corner – _where can he go, where can he __**hide**- _but once the apocalyptic whistling begins, he knows it's over. The bombs coalesce through the air, crashing into the ground like giant exploding raindrops, and the world gives a great, horrible tremble that sends his body careening forward. When he hits the unforgiving pavement, the ground suddenly buckles beneath him; ravenous fire consumes the world, brimstone cascades to the ground as buildings collapse, and shrieks of terror pierce the air.

His lungs fill with smoke and the sky burns an angry red.

That's when it becomes dark.

* * *

The door opens without a sound.

A shadow stretches over the woman's desk and extends over her sitting frame, but she doesn't notice. After a moment, she blearily looks up from the paperwork which she has been studiously examining for the past hour. Her hand, but a blur to the human eye, immediately races for the pistol strapped to her flank; the familiar nickel-plated handgun greets her fingertips like an old friend.

Her reflexes are quick and precise; meticulously honed through years of repetition. The gun is aimed at her assailant's forehead and her index finger is poised against the trigger, ready to squeeze at the slightest provocation. The unwelcome visitor's hands rise slowly, submissively.

"I'm not here to hurt you," the unfamiliar visage reassures in a gravelly, distinctly male voice, seemingly undaunted by the woman's hostility.

Her dust-colored eyes narrow into slits, but her aim does not waver.

"Oh, so _that's_ why you snuck into my office without knocking," she says, voice laced with sarcasm. "Tell me who you are. You have _five seconds_ or my gun will answer for you."

"I'm here to help you," the stranger promptly concedes.

Her lips curl back into a snarl, "That's not the answer I'm looking for."

The resplendent sun that was once shining through the window is now obscured by the man's silhouette. In the light, he is tall, dark and featureless, enshrouded in some sort of thick cloak. His face is ensconced by a heavy hood that covers all but his mouth.

"My life is forfeit as it is; you'd only be doing me a favor by killing me," he whispers.

At that, her demeanor shifts.

One valuable lesson that she has learned throughout her time on this Earth is that a man who has nothing to lose is extremely dangerous.

"And what is your message?"

* * *

She sprints down the hall as fast as she can.

_"Within the next 24 hours the General will be dead or worse, unless you listen very carefully to what I have to say."_

_This catches her attention._

The door slams loudly against the wall as it is flung unceremoniously open. The din pierces the silence, but she takes no heed of it. Her superior, now wide awake from his nap, abruptly sits up and curses.

"Oh, it's only you - listen, about that paperwork from yesterday, I was actually just about to stop by your office to give it to you but I-"

"From _last week_, you mean," she growls, twitching.

_"They are a relatively small group of rebel alchemists that would normally be considered inconsequential. However, a benefactor has recently provided them with the means to execute their plans. "_

"_We have no fear of guns here," Riza counters._

"_They weren't given __**guns**__," the man bites back, as if it is obvious, "otherwise I wouldn't __**be**__ here."_

"Hawkeye!" The dark-haired alchemist stammers as he is roughly grabbed by the sleeve and tugged to his feet. "What are you-"

"We need to leave Central immediately, General," She says firmly, feeling uncomfortable about being so abrupt.

"_Then… what __were__ they given?"_

"_Knowledge," the word hangs heavily in the air._

"_Knowledge?" She echoes hollowly._

"_The kind of knowledge that can destroy entire civilizations, if left unchecked. You know what I'm talking about, I'm sure – unless you need me to spell it out for you?"_

"What do you mean, _leave_? I've got an important meeting scheduled tonight... with the loveliest creature on two legs..."

Riza fixes Roy with a look so chilling that makes his teeth click shut.

"_Meet me at the train station in two hours. I'll be in the third car from the front. Don't bother packing anything, just make sure that you change into normal clothes get a move on. It is imperative that no notices you. Take these. "_

"Please, sir, there isn't very much time to explain," Riza thrusts a rectangular piece of paper in Mustang's face. She normally doesn't proceed to make decisions unless she is fully informed, but when the safety of the General comes into question, she knows she must act quickly.

Roy snatches the piece of paper out of his subordinate's hand, scrutinizes it, and then looks up with serious frown.

"Train tickets?" He frowns. "What is this about?"

"_You expect me to trust you? How am I supposed to know that this isn't some sort of trick? "_

"_If I wanted to kill you I would have attempted to by now, don't you think?" He replies plainly. "It's up to you to decide."_

_Riza holds the train tickets in her open palm, "I don't think-"_

_"But before you make up your mind, I'd like to ask you a question." _

_Riza glances up at this, eyebrow drawing upwards in question. _

_"Do you know a someone by the name of Edward Elric?"_

_Her face grows solemn._

_"You mean The Fullmetal Alchemist... of course. We… we worked together," She clears her throat and squares her shoulders, regaining her composure. "It will pain you to know that he is dead."_

_They stare at each other silently for several moments, before the man speaks up._

_"If you get on this train, not only will I make sure that you and the General are safe, I will tell you where Edward is."_

* * *

They awkwardly walk into Central Station at 2:40 wearing civilian clothes and hats. The crowd pulses around them; people are bustling in every which direction, towing luggage of various shapes and sizes. Trotting happily ahead of them is Black Hayate, who sniffs at the air and looks back at his owner curiously, tongue cutely lolling out of his mouth.

"Are these hats necessary, sir?" Riza asks under her breath, tucking a long, loose strand of hair beneath her cap.

"You're the one that said we needed to dress in civilian clothes. _Not me_. And do we _really_ need to bring the fleabag with? He's going to shed everywhere - why not just leave him at _Sciezkas_?" The insinuating tone in his voice ignites a fiery blush across Riza's cheeks.

She coughs into her hand, clearing her throat.

"Dogs are extremely intuitive creatures. If we can't trust this man, he'll let us know," she kneels down and scratches the dog's ears affectionately, ignoring her partner. "Won't you, boy?"

Roy rolls his eyes and continues to scour the station for their train.

"Over here, Hawkeye," The Flame Alchemist effortlessly weaves his way through the crowd, heading towards the south side of the station. A second train waits there, hissing as the chimney belches a cloud of smoke.

When she looks up, Roy is gone. Panic briefly takes hold – apparently their hats really _do_ make for good camouflage. She spins on her heel, eyes darting through the crowd. After several moments of dizzying confusion, she spots the General and trots over, Black Hayate in tow.

"Sir, I would appreciate it if you did not go wandering off by yourself. It could be dangerous," her face is flushed with anger.

"Right," Roy replies distractedly.

"May I see your ticket please, ma'am?" The train's conductor, having materialized out of nowhere, asks politely. He's a rotund man with rosy cheeks, a dark mustache, and twinkling eyes that are almost violet in hue.

The fierce-looking woman mindlessly fishes out the two tickets from her breast pocket and hands them to the conductor, who briefly scans the pieces of paper.

"The second ticket is for him," she nods towards the ebony-haired general, who is already boarding the train.

"Oh, I figured as much... well, you two enjoy your trip," The conductor winks and hands the tickets back, smiling pleasantly.

She takes the tickets, eyeing her partner wearily before looking down.

"Excuse me, but I think you forgot to punch our tickets-" She asks and glances up, but the conductor is gone.

Upon boarding the train, the first thing to assail her senses (other than the abrupt shift in light) is the overpowering smell of cinnamon and perfume – the kind of perfume that elderly women are prone to douse themselves with.

"It stinks in here," Riza cringes and covers her nose, having never been a fan of overwhelming fragrances. Black Hayate gives a little whine of agreement as they walk down the thin hallway of the train, heading in the direction of the third car.

"So, who _is_ this guy exactly?" The dark-haired alchemist inquires, still not completely satiated by Riza's brief overview of the current situation.

Riza's eyes dart back and forth as they traverse the train, inspecting each passenger for signs of suspicion.

"To be frank, sir, I'm not entirely sure myself," she answers honestly, "but he apparently knows about the location of these terrorists, and…"

She pauses, unsure.

"…And what?" Roy coaxes with a frown.

"Well, he _claims_ that he also knows the location of…" The doubt in her voice is palpable, "Edward Elric."

Roy freezes, eyes widening.

"That's not possible."

Riza turns toward her superior, resisting the urge to lay a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder.

"Nothing is impossible, surely you know that by now," she whispers. "Either way, your safety is currently number one on my priority list, sir. We can worry about _that_ later."

When Riza slides the door to the third car open, she holds a hand up, signaling Roy to stand back while she checks the vicinity. As casually as one possibly can with their hand nonchalantly resting on the handle of their gun, Riza peruses the seemingly empty room.

She almost misses him. The cloaked man sits in the very last seat of the train car, staring out the window. Dyed a dark, warm shade of brown, the cloak's fabric seemingly allows him to blend in like a chameleon. She approaches with caution.

"I'm going to have to check you for any weapons, sir," She says firmly to the stranger, who wordlessly stands and turns, holding his arms out in acquiescence. Her hands trace his sides swiftly, patting up and down his thighs, inner thighs, and then his arms. "May I see your hands, please?"

He holds out his hands. Riza scans the callused skin for transmutation circles, turns his palms up, pulls up the fabric of his cloak make sure there are none on his forearms, and drops his hands. The last thing she does is scan under the train seats. There's nothing there, either.

"You're clear to come in, General." Satisfied with her search, the woman waves Roy over.

"I'm glad you showed up," the stranger appraises after several moments of silence. He pulls down his hood, revealing his face. "You're certainly smarter than you look."

It takes a split second for all hell to break loose.

* * *

_A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter. _


	2. Memoriam

_No one believed. They listened at his heart._  
_Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it._  
_No more to build on there. And they, since they_  
_Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs._

-Robert Frost: "Out, Out-"

Chapter 2: Memoriam

* * *

In the blink of an eye, Black Hayate pounces on the stranger, subsequently knocking him to the ground with a loud thud. Accompanying the sudden outburst of chaos is a cacophony of earsplitting barks, startled yells, followed by the strangest silence.

Roy holds his hand out, middle finger and thumb fixed to snap together. Similarly, Riza has her pistol out and at the ready, but her jaw slowly begins to unhinge in awe when she realizes that Black Hayate isn't attacking the man… he is licking the stranger's face and sniffing him like an overly excited puppy.

His long hair pools heavily over his shoulders like coffee-colored water and his eyes are green – not beautiful like emeralds, but dark like the deepest of pine forests, shadowed with secrets. His face is long and angular and his chin is lined with a layer of dark stubble. He isn't too old… maybe thirty at the latest, but there is an unspoken darkness in him that is tangible; Roy can see it under his eyes, and in the way his mouth is bracketed with frown-induced wrinkles.

"It would be nice if you would stop pointing that gun at me." The stranger tries to protect his face from the onslaught of licking, "And general, what are you trying to do, burn us all to death? Use your head."

Riza lowers her gun and Roy exhales the breath he's been holding, pocketing his alchemically charged hand. The alchemist dumps himself into one of the ruby-colored pleather seats, staring at the disgruntled stranger on the floor in silent contemplation. The man does not look back.

"I thought I specifically told you _not_ to bring anything," the long-haired man says irritably, trying to push the canine off, but to no avail. "And could you _please_ get this thing off me?!"

"Hayate – down. _Now_," Riza orders.

The dog glances up at his master and obediently stands back. Meanwhile, the harassed-looking stranger scrambles to stand, brushing himself off and tucking his hair behind his ears.

"You just _had_ to bring a dog with you, of all things," the man grumbles to himself, pinching his the arch of his nose, "you people really have no idea of the situation that you're in, do you? Did you even stop to think that, perhaps, just _maybe_, someone would recognize you and your dog, even _with_ those stupid hats on?"

Riza bristles and takes her hat off. It's itchy anyway.

"Enough. Let's just cut to the chase, alright?" Roy intervenes; whoever this guy is, he already dislikes him.

"You want me to cut to the chase? Fine. First of all: you're going to have to learn to listen to me if you want to live," the cloaked man stiffly sits down on the opposite side of the two military officers and steeples his fingers together thoughtfully. "And you're going to have to learn some patience. Things like this take _time_, you know."

The train pitches forward as it roars into life, and then slowly eases forward. Outside, Central Station steadily fades from view.

* * *

"My name is Dresden and that's all you need to know about me. I am not important. She isn't, either." He then lazily points at Roy. "_You_, on the other hand, are."_  
_

Riza itches to shoot the man where he stands, but her hand merely twitches instead.

"We are going to a town called Dublith, which is where I currently live. Heard of it?"

"Yes, but I've never been there. what about you, General?" Riza glances over to Roy, who shakes his head.

"I figured as much. Well, anyway, it's safe there. Safer than Central will be if we don't nip this problem in the bud as soon as possible."

"And what _is_ the problem exactly?" Roy asks, fighting to keep the frustration out of his voice and failing. With every word Dresden says, the General feels more and more that there is something inexplicably _off_ about him, something that doesn't quite sit right. He can't put his finger on it yet, but he has a feeling he'll figure it out soon enough.

"Remember - _patience_, General. If you don't learn it, I can promise you that you'll be dead before you can even _say_ the word 'Homunculi,'" Dresden snaps irritably.

The two officers straiten.

"Homunculi… but – they're gone," Riza speaks, struggling to keep the fear out of her voice.

_So many innocent lives taken; so much bloodshed. _

"That's what _he_ thought, too," Dresden picks at his nails, "Your friend Edward."

Silence.

"But Edward was wrong," Dresden bows his face, hiding his expression from view. "He was wrong about a lot of things."

"Edward is dead," Roy whispers. "He's been dead for five years."

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't," Dresden sighs. "One doesn't have to die to get to The Gate."

"The Gate…" Roy tests the words on his pallet. Why does it sound so familiar?

"It's called many things by many people. Some believe it is the Truth, some think it is God, some think it is just a legend… some think it's some sort of scientific fluke, like a tear in the fabric of time and space or some shit like that," when Dresden smiles, it's disjointed and cynical. "I'm not religious, myself. But if I was… I'd call it Hell."

Chills race down Roy's spine.

"There are laws, not written or determined by any man, that are in place to keep the delicate balance of life in check. When someone breaks one of these laws and commits a taboo against Nature, their body and soul are ripped from whatever plane of existence they inhabit to be judged and punished in accordance with the degree of their violation. Most alchemists would argue that The Gate is, by definition, the very epitome of Equivalence, although I really doubt that's entirely true..."

"You're _insane_," Roy scoffs with disbelief and looks over at his partner accusingly. "He's _insane_! And now we're stuck on a train with him! Come on, we'll have to get off at the next stop - what a huge waste of time... absolutely _ridiculous_... where'd you find this guy, on the street somewhere?"

Riza silently stands up.

"How do you think Alphonse Elric lost his body but maintained his soul? Why do you think Edward's arm and leg were taken?"

The two of them freeze. That secret was only privy to a small collection of tight-lipped people.

"It was an alchemic rebound," Roy explains slowly.

Seeing that he has their attention, Dresden resumes.

"No. An alchemic rebound is much more volatile and much less meticulous; it often results in the amalgamation and distortion of the participants figure in some fashion. Bodies and limbs don't just _disappear_ during this process. If you truly believe in the Law of Equivalent Exchange, then you should know that nothing _ever_ disappears. Yes, perhaps a limb could get cut off due to a rebound, but the remnants of the limb would be tangible. A body could explode due to a rebound, but the blood and guts would still be on the walls and floor. They wouldn't just vanish into thin air.

"The Elrics committed the ultimate taboo against Existence itself by trying to bring back that which was gone from this world, and The Gate punished them for it. It wasn't simply because of the inability to produce the materials needed to create a human soul - it happened because it is against the rules of Nature.

"Luckily for them, The Gate is willing to barter. That is what allowed Edward to seal his brother's soul into that piece of armor... but it was a hefty price. He gave up his arm and leg in return for his brother's soul, and that's why his arm and leg couldn't be found at the site of the transgression - same with his brother's body. All of these things were given to The Gate as... compensation.

"However, that begs the question, doesn't it? Is a soul worth an arm and a leg? If so, then why not just lop off both and throw them into a transmutation circle? By looking at the evidence, the logic is sound - but it is simply not the case."

They stare at the rough-looking man in silence.

"So lets look at all of the evidence, shall we? By rule of Equivalent Exchange, you can't just _stop existing_, because that's not the way existence works. Life is destroyed, but it does not vanish. The body is just a vessel, and when it dies, it rots in the ground and the dirt sucks up its nutrients – but the soul, what makes us sentient, doesn't just go into the air. It _has_ to go somewhere. That somewhere is The Gate, and The Gate is the entrance to another plane of existence.

_"Nothing _disappears. Not limbs... not souls... and not people. You never found Edward's body, right? It couldn't have just vanished, either. So, by all evidence and logic, one must conclude that Edward is somewhere beyond The Gate_._"

"And how do you know all of this?" Riza questions in disbelief.

The train is now travelling at full bore; trees and shrubbery speed by the window, but in the distance, the hills move slowly.

"Because I was there with him."

* * *

As the train approaches its destination, Mustang stares at the town that is known as Dublith; from here, he can see that it is nestled in the apex of several densely-wooded hills, and that it circumscribes a relatively sizable lake.

When the train arrives at the station, the sun has started to set, and it's about fifteen degrees hotter than it was in Central. Exhausted, the group disembarks, and when it becomes apparent that Dresden hasn't arranged to be picked up from the station, they walk, trying to keep up with the long-haired man's brisk pace.

It is the very quintessence a small town, Roy concludes as they walk, block by block. Care-free children play in their yards under their parent's vigil. When they approach, the residents watch them distrustfully.

"_Who are those people? And why are they with _**_him_**_?" _They gossip amongst themselves conspiratorially but Dresden doesn't pay attention. Roy gets the feeling that the man doesn't give a damn about what people think of him.

"We _could_ take a car, Mr. Dresden –" Riza suggests offhandedly, wilting under the oppressive summer heat.

"You can just call me Dresden, and a car would be pointless, seeing as how we're almost there," he motions towards the end of the street, where a shabby, old house stands.

To put it bluntly, it is the eyesore of the neighborhood. It appears to have been painted some variation of white at one point in time. Roy resists the urge to turn up his nose as Dresden pushes open the front gate, which consists of rotten wood and peeling paint; it also hangs crooked, screeching loudly in protest when opened. The lawn, mirroring the negligence of both the decrepit house and dilapidated fence, is riddled with patches of dead grass and dried clumps of dirt.

When Dresden unlocks and opens the front door, Riza, Roy, and Black Hayate carefully file into the musty darkness that is Dresden's house –calling it 'home' would be a travesty. The green-eyed man shuts the door behind them and kicks off his shoes.

"So I'm guessing you don't have company over very often," Mustang jibes as he walks to the end of the entryway, idly fingering at a stray cobweb on the wall.

"It's not much, but like I said, you'll be safe here for the time being. And _no_," Dresden's forest-colored eyes meet Roy's for the first time, bearing into him like burning hot knives, "I'm not much of a host nowadays. So unfortunately for you, General, you'll have pretend that you're an adult for once and make your _own_ dinner. Can you handle that? Or do I have to hire a babysitter?"

_Ouch_.

Roy grunts noncommittally.

"I'm sure that the two – uh – _three_ of you are tired," Dresden corrects himself and turns to glare at Black Hayate, who is already in the living room, sniffing everything in the vicinity… not that there's much to sniff in the first place.

The house is sparsely furnished; aside from several shelves of books, there's a cabinet, a faded, semi-collapsed couch, and an end table that is stacked with even more books. The warped wooden floorboards groan with every footstep and the walls are completely bare of decor, accept for the ugly antiquated wallpaper which feebly clings to the walls.

"As you can see there's only one couch, so one of you will have to sleep on the floor. You guys can decide who sleeps where later on. There are extra pillows and blankets in that cabinet over there for both of you – the bathroom is down the hall, to the right. Feel free to use anything you like - accept my toothbrush. You can get your own at the drug store tomorrow."

Roy looks over at his blonde counterpart and gives a defeated sigh, because it's not really a question as to who's going to be sleeping on the floor for the next couple days.

"Just one more thing," the long-haired man says, "If you need to call your military headquarters, which I'm sure you do, you can use the phone booth by the drug store. That's two blocks to the right if you leave through the front door. Just make sure that if you _do_ go out, you have someone with you at all times… the dog doesn't count, either."

* * *

"I can't _believe_ this," Roy gripes as he and Riza approach the aforementioned the phone booth which is actually three blocks to the right, not two. "I stood up my date… I have to sleep on the _floor_…"

"It's better than sleeping in a coffin," Riza reminds him candidly. "We should just try to make the best of it."

"Says the one who gets the couch," The Flame Alchemist mutters.

"Nevertheless, sir, he _has_ opened his house to us without asking for anything in return. You could at least try to be civil," her eyes glint warningly as Roy steps into the phone booth. His hand pauses before it picks up the phone.

"That's the thing, isn't it? He hasn't asked for anything. Why do you think that is?"

Riza seriously contemplates this as Roy dials the numbers for headquarters.

"Maybe it's because he doesn't think that equivalence is the end all be all, Sir," She answers seriously, but Roy doesn't hear her because he's talking to someone on the other line.

* * *

"Colonel Havoc speaking…" Greets a bored voice.

"Havoc," Roy greets, "this is General Mustang."

"O-oh! General! Sir! How's it going? I'm not gonna lie, you have _impeccable_ timing," over the line, Roy can hear Havoc taking a drag off of his cigarette.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Roy replies good-naturedly.

"There was just a girl here to see you just a couple minutes ago, actually. Short red hair, even shorter skirt… _real_ cute. Seemed put out that you weren't here – well, more than put out, she seemed downright pissed - said you guys had a date or something tonight, called you a dirty, no good piece of-"

"Ah," He hums. "That'd be Morissa. Did she leave a number for me to call her at?"

"Can't say she did, Sir. She was pretty riled up. Sorry. Anyway, uh… is there another reason why you called?"

"It's a long story, Havoc. I'm not going to be in Central for a couple days, possibly a week. General Hawkeye is with me. I need to ask a favor."

"Anything, just say the word, Sir," On the other line, Havoc seems to have sobered up from his initial surprise.

"I need you to assemble some state alchemists around headquarters. Double security around the premises, if you can. Keep a lookout for any suspicious activity," Roy leans against the side of the phone booth.

"Sir? Is… uh, everything ok?" Havoc asks nervously. "Where are you?"

"That's not important. Just keep an eye out, that's all," The Flame Alchemist examines his gloved hand and, as an afterthought adds, "be careful, Colonel."

"Right," the man on the other line replies uneasily. "Is there supposed to be a way for me to reach you?"

"I'll check in with you tomorrow at noon."

"Ok."

"That'll be all, Colonel," Roy turns to Riza, giving her a thumbs up, but she's looking off to the right, eyebrows furrowed and mouth contorted into a deep frown – that's never a good sign.

"Talk to you later, General!"

Roy hangs up the phone and walks over.

"Hawkeye, what are you looking at-" The dark haired man begins to ask, but Hawkeye simply raises her hand and points at the drug store entrance, where a vaguely familiar woman and an incredibly muscular man, comparable to Armstrong in size, stand.

* * *

_The first two years after the teenager's disappearance are spent grabbing at straws, following breadcrumbs that lead nowhere. There is no way that Ed of all people can die. He is just a kid - __a kid, __for God's sake –_

_Roy can't accept it – he __**won't** __accept it._

_After everything that's happened, he is still so naïve._

"_You're chasing after ghosts, General." Now that he's got his body and the majority of his memories back, Alphonse's voice no longer has that familiar metallic din; his voice is now tinged with something far worse: defeat._

_The despondent statement stings him deep down, extinguishing what's left of his faith like a candle in the wind. If Alphonse has accepted Edward's fate, then there really __is __no hope left._

"_I wish he was here just as much as you… maybe even more. But he wouldn't' want us to be sad forever. He'd want us to continue living for him. You need to keep moving forward and become Fuhrer… otherwise more people like Ed will die."_

_From that point on, he decides to swallow the past and bury it deep inside himself. He has to face the facts: __Edward is just another casualty of war, another tally in the ever growing list of unavoidable deaths… a__nother innocent person that he couldn't save._

* * *

_The sun is the color of a red hot poker as it approaches the horizon, transforming the sky into a beautiful sea of fire. A cool autumn breeze gently blows over the grassy hills, bringing with it the heady smell of falling leaves. It's just cold enough to wear a coat comfortably._

_Alphonse, the Rockbells, his team, Hawkeye, Sciezka, Gracia, Elicia, and a couple that he doesn't know stand at the crown of the hill. From this place, the world seems huge – it overlooks miles and miles of seemingly endless countryside. It's a beautiful place to be laid to rest._

_It takes every ounce of courage he has to attend the memorial. When the service is over, after the tears have dried and after the sun begins to disappear over the distant hills, the small crowd slowly begins to disperse._

_There are two headstones for two graves – one of which is empty._

"_I'll be waiting for you by the car, Sir," Hawkeye announces gently. Roy nods numbly, eyes glued to the grave._

_If he'd had one last chance speak to Fullmetal, what would he have said?_

"_You must be Colonel Mustang," the female stranger greets him solemnly, jarring him out of his thoughts. She is a strong-looking woman with dark, tempestuous eyes. As if about to fall, she clings tightly to the forearm belonging to the man who he concludes is her husband. "My name is Izumi Curtis, I was the Elric's alchemy teacher. This is my husband, Sig."_

"_It's good to meet the both of you," he manages, but it's hard to talk when his tongue feels as heavy as lead._

_It's quiet for a moment._

"_Edward respected you immensely," she doesn't smile, and for that, he is glad. "Did you know that?"_

_The Flame shrugs his shoulders._

"_I mean it," she tries again, "that boy… he had a funny way of showing that he cared for people. Usually, the worse he treated them, the more he liked them."_

"_Thank you."_

"_I know that doesn't help… nothing can make this kind of pain better. But you need to take care of yourself, Colonel," Izumi backs away, "because you look terrible."_

_When the oddly-proportioned couple takes their leave, Roy only has silence to keep him company, and he prefers it that way because when the tears to fall, they refuse to stop._

"_I'm sorry," is what he says, but there's no one to hear him. _

* * *

_A/N: I'm not able to respond to anonymous reviews, but I just wanted to thank those of you who took the time to reply on the first chapter! Edward will make his appearance soon enough! Until then, I hope you enjoyed this installment. See you next time! _


	3. Warm Bodies

_A woman's body at auction,_  
_ She too is not only herself, she is the teeming mother of mothers,_  
_ She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers._

Walt Whitman – "I Sing the Body Electric"

Chapter 3: Warm Bodies

* * *

"Maybe they live here?" Riza concludes, glancing back at Roy. "Should we talk to them?"

Roy's sharp eyes follow Azumi and Sig Curtis as they walk down the street in the opposite direction; the woman with the dread locks seems significantly healthier than she was when he last saw her. She's walking on her own and even carrying some grocery bags.

"No, it's getting late. We should go back – perhaps we can pay them a visit tomorrow," Roy suggests, eyes still trained on the two figures. "Maybe the two of them can shed some light on our new acquaintance."

When they return to Dresden's house, the sun has set and the temperature is plummeting quickly; it's refreshing, Roy thinks to himself as he opens the precarious-looking gate. When he opens the front door, a weary-looking Dresden is sitting upright on the couch.

"You didn't die, that's good," he congratulates grumpily. "You're… _dog_… won't keep away from me."

Black Hayate stands up from his place at Dresden's feet, tail wagging happily as he trots over to his master.

"Good boy," Riza scratches the dog's ears, smirking.

The dark haired man stands up from the couch and heads towards the stairs, stifling a yawn.

"You guys get some rest, we've got some bases to touch tomorrow," he disappears into the shadows without making a sound.

* * *

Roy stares at the ceiling fan as it goes round and round and round. Hawkeye is on the couch, staring at the ceiling fan as well – neither of them can sleep, not after this kind of day.

Is it possible that Fullmetal is stuck in another world? It seems so delusional, like something out of a crazy novel. But if he really _is_ stuck in another world, is there a way for him to get back? There has to be - how else could Dresden be in their world?

What about the rebel alchemists? What is their plan? And how has Dresden found out about it? Why does it seem like Dresden knows more than he's letting on?

What about Izumi Curtis? Is it purely coincidental that she and Dresden live in the same remote location?

And as for Dresden knowing the intricate details of the Elric's taboo... what if Dresden is simply just a crazy man who knows how to do his research?

…None of this makes any _sense_.

He doesn't know how long he watches the blades spin – maybe minutes, maybe hours. A plethora of questions buzz around his head, itching to be answered. But how long is it going to take to find the truth?

His eyelids grow heavy, weighed down by some invisible force. The questions continue to blare loudly in his mind, gradually growing quieter, until sleep finally takes a hold of him.

Suddenly, everything is abysmally, endlessly white.

Roy knows that this is a dream.

To the right, the Rockbells are wearing their pristine scrubs and smiling at him, heads perfectly intact. Last time they were in his dreams, their brains were splattered on the wall and the blood was streaming down their faces, but they just stood there, undaunted. So he had to fire _more_ rounds into their heads, until their faces were nothing but gory chunks of meat and bone, but they simply refused to die.

Next to them is Maes Hughes, who is excitedly waving an old, tattered picture of Elicia around. The last time he dreamed of Hughes, he was laying in his coffin with his eyes wide open, mouth contorted into a horrific smile, but no one else at the funeral seemed to notice.

And in the middle, there's _him_. Blonde hair. Fiery eyes. The telltale shine of automail sneaking up the right shoulder blade.

Roy reaches forward, but his hand bumps against something – an invisible barrier - a wall of thick, unbreakable glass. He flattens his palm against it, breathes against it, watches the fog spread out over the surface.

The blond angrily runs up and pounds against the glass, but it doesn't give way.

"Mustang!" The voice is accusing. It echoes in his head, all around, seemingly without a source. "Mustang!"

_You're dead and not coming back. Leave me alone. _

"You bastard! Don't you _dare _leave me here!" He keeps slamming his hands against the barrier. The metal makes a furious clang, making his eardrums ring. "Mustang! Mustang! MUSTANG!"

The screams reverberate painfully in his skull, endlessly echoing, punctuated by the deafening clangs of Edward's automail colliding against the unbreakable glass.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BA-

* * *

When he wakes, it's to the sound of someone loudly hammering something against a wall. His midnight eyes snap to the couch above him, bleary and disoriented – where is he? What is this place? Inside his chest, his heart begins to pound faster. As he sits up, his back screams in protest; that's when he remembers where he is. In Dublith. On the floor. In a foreign, potentially insane man's house.

Across the room, the aforementioned man is currently beating a nail into the wall using – what _is_ that, a wooden board?

The likelihood of Dresden's mental well-being seems to be diminishing by the minute.

"You're awake… about time," Dresden's looks back at the General, but doesn't quite make eye contact, "why don't you get up and make yourself useful?"

It's way too early for this…

Roy hoists himself up from the floor, groaning in pain. Every muscle in his body is stiff and achy.

"What in the hell are you doing?" The general asks, nearly tripping over a pile of open books on the floor.

"Oh, you know, I just suddenly felt like _redecorating_ - what does it look like I'm doing?!" Dresden grouses, balancing a nail in one hand, a chunk of wood in the other, while one foot tries to keep a huge piece of paper from falling on the floor. "I'm trying to pin this bitch up."

"You don't have a hammer?" Roy asks dubiously.

"Of course, I just _chose_ not to use it because I like to spend twice as much time nailing stuff into walls." The man blows a piece of hair out of his face. "I don't care what you were taught as a kid: dumb questions _do_ exist - and could you just grab the other edge of this paper? It keeps getting in the way."

Too tired to retort, the alchemist wordlessly grabs the corner of the paper and brings it up so that the two corners are even. Dresden does not thank him.

"You sleep like the dead, you know that? The Lieutenant General and I have been up and at it for an hour already," the dark haired man continues hammering the nail into the wall for a couple more seconds. Finished, he steps close to Roy, shoos him out of the way, and proceeds hammer away some more.

When he's done pounding in the last nail, the two of them step back, evaluating Dresden's handy-work. It's a blown up map of Amestris.

"It's perfect." Dresden says proudly.

"It's crooked." The General smirks.

They both say it at the same time, and the room abruptly becomes quiet. Roy glances over at the green-eyed man, who stares intently at the wall, face completely unreadable. For a moment, he is reminded of Fullmetal, and how they always butted heads over the most minute things.

"So what is the map for?" He adventures, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Well, generally maps are used for finding places…" Dresden explains. "We're going to use it to find _people_ instead."

"Maybe it's in one of these, Dresden?" Hawkeye announces as she carefully comes down the stairs, just barely able to see over the tower of books in her arms. The rugged, unshaved man glances up at the blonde woman and rests his hand on his hips, looking impressed.

"Maybe. Why don't you just set them down over… uh…" Dresden scans the room. "There! On the couch. _Perfect_."

Roy glares at the man and walks over to his partner, courteously taking the stack of books from her and carrying them to the couch.

"Thank you, Sir." Riza dusts off her hands and wipes at the sweat on her brow.

"Who knew he had manners?" The long haired man chortles dryly from the corner. "You two are _cute_."

"Speak for yourself…" The Flame Alchemist seethes and picks up a book from the top of the pile. He has to dust it off to read the cover; unfortunately it is written in a language that he can't read. "Wow, these must be old."

"They sure are." Dresden tip toes around the piles of books, snakes past Roy, and artfully snatches the book out of his hands before dispensing himself on the floor. "Sit down and get comfy. I'm going to explain some things, and it's going to take a bit of time, so bear with me and don't ask any questions till I'm done."

At their silence, Dresden proceeds.

* * *

"I don't know how I got back across the gate because I'm still trying to put the pieces together - but that doesn't matter.

"The world across The Gate is invariably different from this place. They don't have alchemy, and all of the countries have weird names. Needless to say, I didn't fit in... most people thought I was a lunatic. But when I found _him_, I knew he was like me. He'd mutter weird things about alchemy, about places that didn't exist….Those little intricacies that didn't make sense to other people across The Gate made sense to me. Your friend Ed is a smart kid – too smart, if you ask me. His thirst for knowledge had a knack for landing him into a huge pile of trouble. I'm sure you guys know that.

"We talked frequently; maybe it's because he didn't have anyone else to talk to. I'm not sure. But he told me many things, about getting his brother's body back, about the homunculi that he had to fight. I had no choice to believe him – after all that I had seen and done, I would be stupid not to.

"The homunculi that you knew had a leader named Dante; she made them into the creatures they were by feeding fake philosopher stones to the remains of human transmutations. With her team she was able to fashion an elaborate spider web of deceit and lies in hopes creating a real Philosopher's Stone, promising the monsters that she would turn them into humans if they obeyed her commands. Even the Fuhrer was in cahoots with her, which you know.

"But that wasn't all… Dante apparently had an obsession with eternal life. For 400 years, the woman used a previously-crafted Philosopher's Stone to transfer her soul from body to body – until the power of the stone started to die, that is.

"Edward assumed that she was dead during his last final moments on this plane because she was gone – chased away by the homunculus Gluttony. If this was the case, you and I wouldn't be sitting here now.

"As you've probably gathered, she's alive and well for the most part, aside from the fact that she struggles to inhabit a body for any extended period of time. The vessels keep rotting. _Why_? Because every time she moves her soul to another body, she violates Nature's law – everything that lives must die. As punishment, every time she transfers to another body, The Gate takes a little bit of her soul. Unfortunately for her, if a body is inhabited by an incomplete soul, it will naturally begin to decompose.

"The information regarding your impending assassination was primarily just a stroke of luck. I happened to be in a nasty little bar in East City a couple of days ago (by the way, you'd be surprised at the kind of information you can find in greasy little holes like those,) _anyway_, there were three of them – two of them were just your run-of-the-mill lackeys, and the other one was a well-kept girl who couldn't have been more out of place."

* * *

_It's one of those bars that one normally doesn't spot when walking along the street, because one must take the stairs down to get to it. It doesn't even have a sign on the outside. Inside, what permeates the air can only be described as several years worth of old cigarette butts fermenting in a vat of stale beer; it's so visceral that it is almost headache-inducing, but he's smelled worse things._

_He is tucked away in one of the dimly lit corners of the bar, nibbling on the crust of his stale sandwich, when they enter. The bartender nods at them in greeting and they nod back. Making no attempt to draw attention to themselves, they silently slink into a table that is conveniently just within earshot of him. Two males, one female. One of the men is a behemoth with a comically unintelligent face; the other is incredibly underweight and resembles a rat. __He doesn't get a chance to see what the girl looks like since she's already turned her back towards him._

_It's been pouring cats and dogs all day, but they don't bother to take off their coats. When they begin to speak, they lean close to each other – that's when he knows it's a rendezvous. _

"_So… what's the prognosis?" The rat man asks squeakily. _

"_Prognosis?" The oaf echoes dumbly, not knowing what the word means. _

"_Shush, Big Boy," the girl croons, running her fingers along the big man's thigh, "the grownups are talking."_

"_Well?" The rat man asks impatiently. _

"_Calm yourself, it's being taken care of. Tell Master Dante that everything is going according to plan… the stallion will be ours soon enough." _

"_Don't say her name," the rat man hisses, handing the girl something small enough to be hidden in his palm. _

"_Why this?" She hisses when she looks down at the item she is given, "That's hardly fun." _

"_The Military knows that your kind exists. They'll be able to connect the dots easily enough. That's the last thing the Master needs. There can't be force involved - it's got to be quick and it can't draw attention. When can we expect results?"_

_"Two days. He's a busy man, after all."_

* * *

"I can't say that my hypothesis is air tight, but I think it's safe to assume that Dante wants to get rid of the General so that she can make herself another puppet to take his place…. to finish what she started. And judging by the conversation, I'd say that the girl is more than likely a homunculus – hopefully there aren't any more, otherwise we're definitely in trouble.

"But there's just one thing that doesn't add up. Dante knows that the Philosopher's Stone won't prevent her body from rotting even faster… so there has to be some sort of catch. And that's what we need to find out.

"As you noticed, General, the books I have here are extremely old. Many of them were written more than 400 years ago. Some of them are religious texts, some of them are alchemical. If I'm correct, whatever Dante is trying to accomplish is something that hasn't been attempted in a very, very long time... if ever."

They sit in complete silence, trying to digest Dresden's words.

After about five minutes, Riza swallows the lump in her throat and speaks up. She is looking at the floor, face completely devoid of emotion. "Why?"

"…Why?" Dresden's brow hikes up in surprise, seemingly blindsided. Obviously that's not the first question he expects. "Why what?"

"Why are you helping us? Most sane people wouldn't get involved in something this dangerous."

When he smiles, it's pained.

"I've been gone so long… there's nothing left for me here. Everyone's moved on with their lives," He whispers. "I figure all I can do now is help Edward's friends, since he can't. It's only right."

* * *

"Well, it's already past noon… I've got a couple errands to run." Dresden stands and yawns. His shirt hikes up, exposing a sliver of the pale skin just above his navel – Roy hurriedly looks away, not quite sure why he was looking in the first place. "You two lovebirds behave yourselves. Remember… if you _do_ go out, stick together. I'll be back soon…"

The door clicks shut.

_...Lovebirds!?_

The two officers stare blankly at each other, deadpanning, when all of the sudden, Roy jumps to his feet.

"Shit. It's after noon - we need to call Colonel Havoc. Come on, let's go," the dark-haired man makes for the door as well; Riza begins to follow but stops suddenly.

"Wait. Black Hayate! Come here boy!" The dog's collar jingles as he follows his master out the door.

They hurriedly walk the three blocks to the phone booth; swiftly, The Flame Alchemist yanks open the door and picks up the phone, fingers swiftly dialing in the familiar numbers to Central's military headquarters.

"Colonel Havoc here…" The bored voice answers again, immediately relaxing Roy's once tense muscles.

"Havoc. It's Mustang," the General greets, shoulders slumping as he rakes his hands through his bangs.

"Hey boss! I was gettin' worried…" The Colonel greets pleasantly, voice mildly distorted by the phone line. "Is everything ok on your end?"

"Yes, we're fine over here, Havoc. How are things in Central?" Roy inquires.

"Oh everything is good… nothing out of the ordinary here. Everything is as plain as Jane," he answers. "Is there anything in particular our guys should be looking for, Sir?"

Roy is tempted to answer truthfully, but God only knows if the phone lines are being tapped.

"No, just make sure to keep an eye out. Is security doubled like I asked?"

"Well, for the most part. One of our guys didn't show up, but he must be out sick or something."

Roy stops and frowns.

"Who?"

"I believe his name is Damascus Richards, Sir."

"Can you hold for a second, Colonel?"

"Of course…"

Roy holds the phone away and covers the mouthpiece with his hand.

"Hawkeye. Do you know anyone named Damascus Richards?" He asks.

Riza glances over to her superior. "Yes, he works the security desk next to my office. Why?"

Mustang's teeth clench together. That is not the answer he is hoping to hear.

"Was he working yesterday, around the time Dresden came into your office?"

"Yes…" She answers uneasily, sensing that something is amiss.

"Did he seem ill?"

She scratches her ear. "Well, he seemed fine to me…"

"Havoc," Roy brings the phone to his mouth, "has anyone tried to call Mr. Richards?"

"Well, yeah… we called him to see if he could come in, but he didn't answer. Why? Is there a problem?"

"…Potentially," the General rubs at his temples. "Can you send anyone to his house to check in on him?"

"Um, _now_?" Havoc sounds nervous.

"No, _tomorrow_. Yes, now!" Roy grinds out, resisting the urge to smack his palm against his forehead.

"A-Alright! I'll send some people over their right away, Sir!" The blonde man sputters.

"Good. I'll call you tomorrow at noon," Roy slams the phone down on the receiver one, twice, three times because Damascus Richards is more than likely a dead man by now. "Shit!"

"General? What's happened?" The sharp-eyed woman asks worriedly. "Is Richards-"

"Dead?" Roy supplements, "Not that I know of yet. But I wouldn't be surprised if he was. You didn't tell him that we were leaving for Dublith, did you?"

"Of course not. I didn't talk to anyone other than you, Sir."

He exhales slowly. Of course she didn't. Hawkeye is smart – she's always a step ahead.

Ok… maybe they are fine. Maybe it's just a fluke – maybe Richards _is_ at home sick, or maybe he just doesn't want to go to work on his day off. Or maybe Dresden has a contagious virus that induces insanity, and Roy's caught it?

"Sir, why don't we stop and get an extra pair of clothes from one of these stores?" Riza suggests, looking down the street a ways. Roy doesn't know how he missed the cluster of shops just ahead of them. Now that he thinks of it, he doesn't want to wear the same outfit for a whole week, maybe it's not such a bad idea to have a spare.

"You know my size, right?" The alchemist digs in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. Hawkeye has ordered his uniforms on a multitude of occasions – most of the time, it is due to combat damage. "Take this."

He hands her a small wad of cash.

"Sir, I _meant_ to say that you should come with me," Riza reiterates. "I don't think it's a good idea to separate. Even Dresden said-"

"_Him_?" Roy snorts derisively. "We don't even know if this situation _exists_. It could just be completely made up. _Besides_, it's not like we're going to be apart for long. I'm just going to go take a bit of a nap… I'm completely bushed."

Of course he is – but she doesn't blame him; she's pretty tired herself. The past two days have been very stressful. What could it hurt?

Riza takes the money, neatly folds it in half, and stows it in her pocket.

"Anything you want in particular?"

The dark haired man shakes his head. "No, just jeans and a t-shirt. Maybe some shorts to sleep in, too."

"Be careful," She says, and he nods. They share a smile, and walk their separate ways

* * *

The sable-haired General walks into the drab house, which is now a disaster littered with open books. He stares at the couch like a starving man presented with a platter of fresh food. Oh sweet cushions –

Not bothering to kick off his shoes, Roy lazily meanders into the living room and collapses face-down on the old couch. The cushions are worn thin in some places; the edges of the fabric are frayed and undone, exposing the spongy interior beneath. Sighing victoriously, he nuzzles his face into the fabric and drapes his arm over his eyes to block out the daylight. He's perfectly relaxed, and time begins to slip away...

_Thump thump thump! _Someone wraps at the door.

Roy shoves his head further into the cushions. Maybe they'll go away if he waits long enough.

_Thump thump thump! _

"No one's home..." He grumbles furiously, voice muffled by the couch.

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" He groans miserably and sits up, hair tousled and eyes sharp with anger. In a haze, he stands and storms towards the door, kicking books out of his way as he walks.

Who could possibly be knocking at the door? It's _Dresden's_ house; the guy's not exactly the most inviting man on the planet. The likelihood of him having friends is next to nothing.

_THUMP THUMP THU-!_

"Enough!" He rips open the door to exemplify his irritation.

"Oh!" A lithe girl of medium height stands at the doorstep, scantily clad in a pair of mini shorts and an orange tank top. Her short hair, pulled up into a small, messy ponytail, is a blend between red and brown.

"Morissa?" He ogles her cleavage and then blinks upwards, casually shoving his hands into his pockets. Well, isn't _this_ a delightful little surprise? "What are you doing here?"

The auburn-haired girl pouts. Her lips are big and pink, glazed with sparkly lip gloss. "You stood me up. I even put on my favorite miniskirt, like you asked…"

She's staring tearfully at the ground, hands tucked behind her back as her foot nervously kicks against the sidewalk.

"… An emergency came up," Roy apologizes hollowly, giving her a winning smile. "What are you doing all the way down here? I wanted to get a hold of you, but I wasn't able to find your number."

Her heart-shaped face is accentuated by a cute smile and innocent, doe-like eyes, "I have family out here. They said they saw some visitors in town, and when they described the charming man with dark hair, I just knew it was you. I was so nervous to stop by… I hope I'm not bothering you."

Roy leans lethargically against the doorway and sends the girl another disarming smile.

"Well, you could always come in and stay a while…" He offers charmingly.

"Oh… are you sure that's ok?" She steals a glimpse over the General's shoulder and then fixes him with a sultry stare.

Upon entering, Morissa peers around excitedly, daintily bouncing on her feet as she moves into the living room.

"Are you brushing up on some reading?" She points at the pile of books lying on the floor and looks back at the General.

"What can I say, I _do_ love my books," he improvises and approaches the younger girl. "So what would you like to do?"

The girl grins judiciously and saunters up to him, feet so light that the floorboards don't even creak. Her hips sway sensuously.

"Do you _really_ want to know what I want to do?"

Unbidden, there's flash of naval skin, so pale, _not feminine _ – ** no. **

"Yes…" He whispers thickly, shaking the thought from his head. "How about in the bathroom?"

"Oh, _kinky_…" She reaches up and traces her finger along his collar bone. "Which direction, General? Lead the way…"

Roughly, he takes her hand and directs her down the small hallway which leads to the bathroom. Once the door is open, things quickly get heated. He needs to make this fast, otherwise Hawkeye is going to rip him limb from limb.

She perches on the sink, poised in front of the medicine cabinet, parting her legs provocatively. Still clad in shorts, she traces her fingers over herself promisingly. Mustang doesn't kiss her; he mindlessly traces his hands over her curves.

_They're all the same – just warm bodies._

His callused hands run up her back, lifting up the cotton fabric that is her tank top – predictably, she's not wearing a bra.

He glances at the mirror in front of the medicine cabinet for not even a fraction of a second.

What kind of man has he become?

The pale man looking back at him is unstable and insatiable; he greedily takes and takes and takes and takes to fill the painful void in his chest, but nothing seems to ease the ache.

But there's something else in the reflection that turns his blood into ice. Cradled between the dimples of the girl's lower back is a tattoo that is seemingly carved into his visitor's flesh. It glares back at him, hot and red and mocking.

It is the mark of the ouroboros.

* * *

_A/N: I told myself I wouldn't post this for a couple days, but I'm sick so I have the day off. Yay for quick updates! Thanks again to all of you that took the time to review on the past two chapters, you're all awesome. _


	4. Facades

_...One must learn about evil,_  
_learn what is subhuman,_  
_learn how the blood pops out like a scream,_  
_one must see the night_  
_before one can realize the day…_

Anne Sexton: The Evil Seekers

Chapter 4: Facades

* * *

In his haze of terror, time itself seems to have come to almost a complete stop.

The air is dry and dusty and the only source of illumination is the gray daylight mutedly spilling from the small, curtain-covered window adjacent to the shower. It is too cramped and too small in the bathroom to use alchemy; if he tries, he'll only burn himself to death. Is this really the place where he's going to die? In a _bathroom _of all things?

Roy swallows at the lump in his throat, but it doesn't go down, it only gets bigger, asphyxiating him. Rationally, he knows that there's nothing he can do but conserve as much time as possible by moving slowly; if he plays his cards right, maybe – just _maybe_ - Riza will get to him in time.

But it's highly unlikely.

Was this Dresden's doing? Has he been the puppeteer behind this entire scheme?

_'Well, I've got some errands to run.'_

…How convenient.

Roy continues to move, languidly caressing the girl's back and slipping his fingertips into her shorts. Face resting in the crook of her neck, he fakes a moan and prays to whatever deity there is that it sounds genuine.

He thinks about the day he shot the Rockbells; how he rested his pistol against their temples at point blank range. They begged for their lives, tears falling down their cheeks, because they had a daughter – but he did what he had to do. He does the same thing now that he did back then; he turns his emotions off. On the outside, he is an ignorant, horny man who's going to have sex – on the inside, there is absolute nothingness.

Despite this, it takes every fiber of his being to keep his hands from violently shaking.

"C'mon, _General,_" The girl hisses, voice dropping a few octaves. Abruptly, she grabs the man by the chin and yanks his face in front of hers; her nails bite painfully deep into his skin, drawing blood. Before him, her wide, innocent eyes begin to narrow into lethal, knifelike slits - her pupils become thin and reptilian.

The game is over before it's even begun.

"_Do you like what you see?"_

The girl's lips turn upwards into a horrifying, unnaturally wide grin. In two seamless movements, Roy's head is violently cracked against the porcelain sink, and the girl's knee collides with his groin.

It all happens so quickly that he doesn't even realize that he is completely immobilized. He dangles uselessly as the homunculus grapples him by the throat; with the strength of ten men, she lifts him off the ground, crushing his windpipe. Her smile broadens and she rifles his useless body against the wall, which concaves upon impact.

She barks out an amused laugh.

"I know that you saw the mark. I can see _everything_," she remarks as he slides down into a useless heap on the floor, staring emptily at the impeccably clean linoleum tiles. The pain is blinding. "I'm the closest to God that you'll ever be."

The red-haired girl takes Roy by the sleeve and flops him over so that he faces towards the ceiling. She sighs in disappointment when he doesn't move.

"You are so _transparent_, Roy," she frowns at him, circling him like a vulture does its prey. "So gullible, so naïve. I don't know why Master even _wants_ you; you're already such a waste of flesh. It's sad, really."

"Just kill me… and get it over with," he gasps, lungs ringing with undiluted pain.

"Oh believe me… when I'm done with you," she bends over him, mouth hovering against his, "you'll _wish_ you were dead." She straitens her posture and steps out of his vision.

The sound of the mirror shattering fills his ears; the creature's hands are picking through the shards. He hears her hum in approval.

"Wanna know my real name? I mean… I'm sure you'll want to know whose name to cry out when you're being tortured." He bites down on his lip when the creature straddles him, knees jabbing into his undoubtedly broken ribs. "My name is Ghagiel. That Seven Sins bullshit is over now. I know who I am, and despite what _she_ may think, I am my own master."

The girl's eyes are wide and crazed as she raises her dainty hand, which cradles a knife-sized, razor sharp mirror shard.

"I promised I would give you to my master alive, but I didn't promise anything else… what should I take as a prize? What is it that you fear most, _Roy_?" She gently presses the tip of her weapon to the meat of his cheek, drawing out a single pearl of blood.

_Darkness. _

"Oh, your _sight_? How interesting… _What else_?"

_Companionship_. _Oh God can this thing read his thoughts?_

"Your partner! Oh, I'll take care of her later, don't worry. _She'll die screaming_," the girl promises, and then huffs in frustration, pouting. "You truly are the most boring man I've ever met… what more can I take from you that hasn't been taken away already?"

When the pain in his lungs begins to ebb, her sharp, bony knees are back, pressing harder than ever into his sides, elucidating a strangled gasp.

"Ah… well, I'll just have to take your sanity instead… but first, I'll start with your beloved _eyes_." He can feel the tip of the blade against the paper-thin flesh of his right eyelid, and there is only one thing that he's thinking of, and that is a set of eyes that are the color of molten gold – _even if he does come back, he'll never see him again._

"Get away from him."

"What - ?" Ghagiel looks up, sinister smile dropping from her face -

"_I said get the fuck away from him!"_

CLAP!

It all happens at once. In situations like this, it always does.

There is an electric cackle followed immediately by a flash of brilliant blue light. When Roy feels Ghagiel's weight lift from his chest, he instinctively hoists himself into the nearby bathtub as quickly as he can. His timing is perfect, too, because as soon as he ducks his head, a barrage of stone spikes explodes through the bathroom wall, sending splinters of wood through the air like shrapnel. What used to be the back wall is now a gaping exit into the backyard.

Huge barbs continue to shoot forward from beneath the floorboards; Dresden climbs onto one of them and runs on top of it, utilizing the momentum to increase his speed. Ghagiel expertly maneuvers herself around the burst of spikes like an acrobat, continuously avoiding each and every blow.

CLAP! Another shaft of razor sharp rock erupts unexpectedly from the side, knocking the homunculus clear across the yard and into an old spruce, snapping it clear in half upon impact. It gives a loud groan and falls into the middle of the road, knocking a light post over on its way down. Using the precious time he has while she is downed, the pale, long-haired man whips around.

"_RUN, MUSTANG_!" Dresden's eyes are frenzied, glossy, and his pupils are dilated the size of pinpricks. He is not a man – he is an animal, relying on survival instincts alone-

Rushed footsteps from the hallway announce the belated arrival of Hawkeye. She whips her blond head around as she looks for her partner. When she spots him, she's surprised to see that he's using the shower curtain as leverage to hoist his broken body from its sitting position; she immediately races over and props him up.

"I saw the light," is what she says, but the world is a chaotic blur and Roy doesn't understand her.

CLAP! And once again, the battle resumes – Dresden and the Homunculus collide like titans, darting back and forth, both equally matched in skill and speed – Riza's eyes widen, terrified.

Dresden glances back for a fraction of a second, "GOD DAMN IT - GET OUT OF HERE! **GO**!"

That one moment of distraction allows Ghagiel to land a well-aimed punch that packs so much energy it sends the man careening through the air and into the dirt. Riza, sporting the half-unconscious General, rushes out of the house. The guilt gnaws at her insides when she hears Dresden's body colliding with the ground, but she reminds herself that her sole purpose is to keep her partner alive at all costs.

_'I have someone I need to protect.'_

* * *

_Sir?_

_Sir..._

"SIR!"

They are sitting in the middle of the road – Roy, once staring emptily into the distance, blinks wildly –

"We need to get somewhere safe - " Riza's trembling hands firmly grasp Roy's shoulders, holding him upright. "But I need you to stand up. We need to move _now_. If they keep this up for much longer, the entire block is going to be completely destroyed!"

Roy's head looks back just in time to see Dresden's house completely collapse. Flashes of blue fill the air like miniature strikes of lighting and the ground uproots itself into a wall, raising a cloud of dust.

"We have to go back!" Roy spits as he tries to stand up; his ribs scream in protest, but he doesn't care.

"No!" Riza fixes him with a familiar stone-cold look that would usually silence him, but he merely grinds his teeth and wills himself to stand. "Sir! There's nothing we can do!"

Roy turns away from her. "I'm not going to run away from this!"

_I'm not going to let another person I know die. Not when I can do something about it._

Hawkeye releases her grip, startled by the response.

"We will go together, then," she says with an air of finality,

"No," he rebukes. "Bullets will do nothing against that thing. Edward's teacher! She's the only one who can help us. She's got to live close - somewhere by those shops. Find her! _That's an order_!"

"Sir, but I-" She starts but is cut off when the ground trembles, and with a strength Roy's never known, he forcibly limps his way back to the ruins of what used to be Dresden's house. An anguished scream rips through the air, soon followed by another – the voice belongs to Dresden. Spurred by the pained cries, Roy hastens his pace, climbing over the flotsam of destruction.

"What… you don't _like_ that?" Their bodies are tangled in the dirt; the lithe girl is sitting on top of the squirming long-haired man, pinning him down with her inhuman strength. In her hands is the same blade of glass that she was going to use to carve out Roy's eyes. "How about _here_?"

The makeshift knife plummets into Dresden's chest once, in the spot precariously close to where the heart resides – and then again, on the other side of his chest. An animalistic shriek tears from the mouth of the incapacitated man.

"So he _does_ feel pain…" She giggles impishly, "how adorable."

"Dresden!" Before Roy can snap his fingers, the girl cranes her head upwards.

"I wouldn't do that, General… you won't just hurt _me_." Her fingers snake along Dresden's cheek, lovingly caressing the skin there. She looks down at her victim like a proud mother. "Look at him… Now _here_ is a man who knows the art of deception! You sure know how to fool them, don't you – what did you say your name was again? _Dresden_?"

What does _that_ mean?

"Shut up you stupid bitch-" Dresden spits.

"Ah, they don't even _know_-"

Suddenly, she's tracing her tongue along Dresden's jaw line, and the man is trying to jerk his head away, disgusted.

"She would be so proud of me if I brought two presents home for her. You'd be my little _bonus_ – she doesn't like it when people ruin her plans…" She nibbles his earlobe. "Maybe I should get a pretty ribbon put in your beautiful hair…"

There is no clap, no blue light, no electricity – absolutely nothing. Out of nowhere, a pointy, corrugated spear of rebar metastasizes from the foundation of the house and impales the distracted homunculus through the chest with a sickening _THUNK,_ pinning her to a faraway tree.

Roy's never seen anything like it before.

A spray of blood spurts out of the girl's mouth and her limbs twitch feebly. Dresden lies unmoving on the ground, wheezing and staring sightlessly into the sky. Blood blooms through his white shirt, quickly pooling on the ground below him.

"What have you done to me…" Ghagiel gurgles demonically and then begins to vomit her own blood, purple eyes laced with contempt. "Alchemy without a circle, completely without a catalyst… it's… impossible."

Suddenly, there is a sizzling sound, and the General can see that the girl's blood is eating through the bar of steel like acid. The homunculus falls to the ground, landing on all fours like a cat.

"But it will take more than _parlor tricks _to kill me," she beams up at them, blood dribbling from her lips.

Roy snaps his fingers, igniting a barricade of blistering hot fire across the ground between Dresden, himself, and the bloodthirsty creature. The scalding flames prevent her from crossing.

"What is the meaning of this!" A fearsome voice screams.

Out of breath, Riza stumbles upon the battlefield along with Black Hayate and a furious Izumi.

Across the undulating barrier, the homunculus pushes itself into a standing position and wobbles precariously, apparently weakened by its wounds.

Everything is silent, aside from the steady crackle of alchemic fire.

"Four against one? I hardly call that fair…" Ghagiel wipes at the blood coating her mouth and spits what's left onto the ground. "But I know when I'm outmatched."

With a wink and girlish smile, she takes a couple steps back and then runs.

* * *

Dresden lays inert on the ground but is still miraculously awake.

CLAP!

A wave of risen dirt suffocates the raging fire; the earth pops and sizzles, smoking.

"He needs urgent medical attention," Izumi approaches the fallen man; her hands, clenched into white-knuckled fists, betray her indomitable façade. "General, help me get him up – we need to get him to my house. Now."

"He needs a hospital-"

"It's on the other side of the lake! He'll _die_ before we can get him there!" She yells furiously.

Roy kneels next to the man. His own pain becomes a distant memory when Dresden's wildly blinking, olive-colored eyes stare back into his, filled with something completely foreign to him.

"N-no –" Dresden murmurs, voice strangled with pain. "D-don't touch m-me… " With a heavy breath, his eyes flutter and shut as he passes out.

"General!" Izumi already has Dresden's body half-propped on her shoulder. "Help me for God's sake – _you_," she addresses at the Lieutenant General, "Go back to my house and tell my husband to get my medical supplies out and as many towels as he can find! We'll be right behind you!"

"Yes, ma'am," Riza replies respectfully and runs ahead of them, loyal canine cantering at her side.

The General's hands quake as he drapes Dresden's limp arm over his shoulder. On the count of three, Izumi and Roy push themselves up with their legs, supporting the wounded man. Dresden's head slumps forward.

_This is **my** fault._

As they move forward, Roy silently curses himself – how could he be so careless – so stupid?

_I am responsible._

The man's blood permeates Roy's own clothing as they turn onto the street, which for some bizarre reason is completely devoid of life.

"Quick, we need to hurry," Izumi grunts. Roy obediently obeys, but apparently he isn't moving fast enough, because several moments later she adds, "If you don't move faster this man will bleed to death! When did the military let their dogs become so weak?"

It is the longest walk Roy has ever known; every step is riddled with complete and unmitigated shame. He doesn't know how long it takes or how many blocks they walk. Adrenaline courses through his veins like a raging river – he taps into it and uses it to continue forward.

Before they enter the house, Izumi stops, head bowed.

"I won't ask you what you're doing here now. But when this is over, you _will_ explain everything. Do we understand each other?" Wordlessly, she reaches for the doorknob and pushes the door open.

* * *

Upon entering the house, Izumi's mammoth-sized husband walks up to them, unperturbed.

"I will take him from here," Sig Curtis easily lifts Dresden up with one arm and hauls him over his shoulder like he is merely a sack of potatoes. Roy voicelessly follows them into the kitchen, where Izumi's husband gently places the pliable man on the table. Dresden's face is cadaverously white – and there's so much _blood -_

Using a knife she grabs off of the counter, the alchemy teacher cuts open the man's shirt wide open, bearing Dresden's seemingly butchered chest. The general runs his hand through his hair anxiously because Dresden has obviously been stabbed more than twice – and oh holy mother, the blade of glass is just barely protruding from his side, still embedded deep inside his body –

_It's my fault,_ he thinks again. _His blood is on my hands._

It makes him nauseous. Morissa - Ghagiel; the date he was supposed to go on two nights ago… it's all so painfully, sickeningly obvious now. She was the one at the seedy bar with the two other men. She was the one who was meant to capture him, and her plan was to do it after their date. He _invited_ her in - so completely blind to all of the blaring signs. How could he be so inept?

The kitchen suddenly reminds him of the Ishbalan War, when the hospitals in the war zones were run amuck with people dashing back and forth to help the countless (and constantly growing) number of injured. As Izumi starts barking out orders, Sig and Hawkeye begin grabbing and handing over towels, which are subsequently used to wipe at the copious amount of blood _that just keeps coming back_-

"Get him out of here!" Izumi snarls, and a man that Roy doesn't know eases him out of the room; he obliges like a handful of putty, because he's not entirely sure what to do with himself.

"Just sit out here, General. Relax. He's gonna be fine," the stranger says comfortingly, but the look on his round face says otherwise, because he's seen how bad those wounds are and Roy isn't stupid. "Izumi's sewing skills are just about as good as her alchemy. She'll clean him up."

Mustang dumbly sits in the nearest chair, and that is where he stays for the next three hours.

All he knows is that the guilt is inescapable; and what's worse, there's absolutely _nothing_ he can do about it.

* * *

When Riza finally opens the kitchen door, she spots Roy in the hall; he's deposited in a chair with his face buried in his hands. Upon seeing his owner, Black Hayate sits up and trots over to Riza, licking at her hands. The enervated Lieutenant General eases herself into the chair beside her superior. Her muscles ache from overexertion, and despite the fact that she's thoroughly washed her hands, there is still blood stubbornly clinging under and around her fingernails.

"He's going to live," she informs lamely, not sure of what to say. "I think that girl deliberately missed his vitals."

Roy doesn't acknowledge her. The two of them sit in silence for a while.

"You know, there was really a part of me that thought that all of this might just be some crazy misunderstanding… that all of the things Dresden said were just the delusions of a madman," she finally admits. The General looks up at her, face lined with exhaustion. "It's just that we've been safe for so long… it didn't seem feasible. It was like something out of a dream – or a nightmare."

Roy nods solemnly. It is true… everything Dresden has told them thus far has sounded like the made up ramblings of a lunatic.

"So… how many times…?"

"Five," she answers stiffly, knowing that Mustang is referring to the amount of time their savior has been stabbed. The dark-haired man looks away.

"He's like her, you know," he remarks absently. "Alchemy without a circle. Why do you think that is?"

"Probably the same reason why Edward could and why Mrs. Curtis can," she shrugs nonchalantly, unfazed. "I don't care what it means, Sir. We've got much bigger problems to worry about – it's no longer safe here. How long do you think it will it be before she comes back? And what if she's not the only one?"

Izumi, Sig, and the man Roy doesn't know filter out of the kitchen one by one. Riza leans over and whispers that the stranger's name is Mason, and that he is Sig's assistant.

"Mason, you stay in there and watch him. If he wakes up, notify me immediately. You two," Izumi's piercing eyes land on the two military officers, "come with me."

The four of them enter the living room; there are two couches that face each other. Roy and Riza sit in one while Azumi and Sig sit in the other. It's plain to see that the older woman's fury is without fathom, but she contains it expertly.

"Tell me everything," is all that she says.

And they do.

* * *

Roy and Riza take turns explaining their current situation - from Dresden's appearance to The Gate to Dante's mysterious agenda and finally to the homunculs named Ghagiel. It takes well over an hour to finish – Izumi remains patient and doesn't interrupt. When they reach then end, they sit in a long silence.

"The Gate exists," the alchemy teacher finally acknowledges, leaning back and crossing her arms over her well-endowed chest. "I've seen it with my very own eyes, but what lies beyond it is a mystery to me. Quite frankly, I hope that I never have to see it for myself. And as for Dante… well, that is a different story entirely, but she is indeed a real person – a very dangerous one, too. I'm sure you've gathered that much from your encounter."

"When the homunculus had Dresden, something really strange happened… I've never seen anything like it before." Roy rubs anxiously at his chin.

"And what was that?" Izumi asks.

"It was like it came from nowhere – that metal rebar that was pinning her to the tree. It was alchemic, but it had no source. No circle, no clap…. Nothing."

Izumi frowns.

"That _is_ odd. The ability to transmute without runes is only passed on to those who have seen The Gate. By clapping, I am able to generate the energy that is required as a catalyst to transmute an object. If it's true that he has passed through and come back from whatever is on the other side of the gate, then it's logical to assume that he's learned to bypass that step entirely," she explains. "If that _is_ the case, then we're lucky to have the element of surprise on our side."

The 'We' hangs in the air until Mason comes running into the room looking mortified.

"I-Izumi, he's up, and uh… by _up_, I mean he's trying to leave-"

"WHAT?!"

All four of them shoot up at once and make for the kitchen, but Dresden is already running out the front door, substantially slower than normal because of his injuries.

"YOU THREE STAY HERE!" Izumi booms and peels out of the front door in hot pursuit. Riza makes to run forward, but Roy stops her – he knows that they need to start listening more. And now is the perfect time to start. The sharp-eyed woman catches up to the long-haired man before he even makes it to the street. "Get back here you stupid son of a bi-"

Izumi's fingers reach out and seek purchase around the sleeve of Dresden's cut-open shirt, but the man lucratively shrugs the fabric off in mid-run. She tosses the bloodied shirt to the side and gives chase to the now-shirtless man once more.

Dresden skids around the corner of the block and attempts to turn into a neighboring yard.

"Oh _no you don't_!" Izumi claps her hands, slaps her palms against the road's surface, and raises an enormous barricade of cement.

Dresden wheezes. Like a caged animal, he frantically looks for an escape, but there is none. He claps and presses his hands against the wall, hoping to open a hole in the concrete encumbrance, but nothing happens when he does.

"Why are you running? Don't be a damn fool!" The livid woman stomps closer. "Can't you see that your body is so fatigued that it can't even use alchemy?"

It's miraculous that the man can even stand there, let alone run, considering how much blood he's lost.

"Why do you care! Just let me go!" Dresden curses as he backs up against the wall, eyes bright with fear.

"There's no reason to look so scared-" She starts.

That is when she sees the scar. It's wide and pink and completely wraps around his right shoulder, as if his entire arm had been lopped off at one point and put back on.

"What is that?" Her voice is low and dangerous. The pieces fall into place, and suddenly everything makes perfect sense.

He swallows, "What's what?"

"_What is that_?" She rushes at the silent man, caging him between her arms. Their faces almost touch. "WHO ARE YOU! TELL ME NOW! TELL ME WHO YOU _REALLY_ ARE!"

Dresden closes his eyes, expectantly – and Izumi obligingly punches him square in the jaw as hard as she can. He reels sideways and lands on painfully on his hip.

* * *

Sig, Mason, Riza and Roy are anxiously loitering in the doorway when they see Izumi walking around the corner of the block. Dresden is nowhere to be seen. They all rush through the threshold at once, but it isn't wide enough to fit them all.

"How could you let him get away!" Roy finally squeezes his way through the crowded doorway and then freezes. Izumi passes the fence and her lower half comes into view. Behind her, being dragged by his hair, is Dresden. His bandages have completely bled through. "What are you doing!?"

The teacher fixes the General with a look of pure animosity and manages to grind out, "Shuddup and get. In. The. HOUSE!"

Sig silently herds everyone inside, knowing better than to interfere. His wife is a very scary woman when angry. When the door slams shut, Izumi unconcernedly disposes the long haired man to the ground.

"That is enough!" Riza yells in a rare display of anger, kneeling down beside the man and looking up at Izumi. "That is ENOUGH!"

"Tell them," Izumi ignores the Lieutenant General, eyes as cold as steel. "TELL THEM WHO YOU ARE! TELL THEM HOW YOU _LIED_ TO THEM! YOU _COWARD_!"

"Dresden?" Riza pulls her hands away as if scalded. "What does she mean?"

The man grimaces.

"I am so ashamed of you," Izumi whispers and hot tears start to prickle at her hateful eyes; she doesn't remember the last time that she cried.

CLAP!

The alchemy teacher reaches down and presses her glowing hands against the wounded man's temples. Dresden's long, brown hair fades to the color of straw. When his eyes finally peel open, his irises are a brilliant, indisputable shade of gold.

* * *

_A/N: Ghagiel's name is pronounced "Gah-gee-ell." There is a reason behind the weird name, but you'll have to wait to find out! :)_

_One of the anonymous viewers asked if Dresden was Harry – I'm a little confused… this isn't a crossover of any kind. The story is meant to take place after the original FMA. I haven't watched Brotherhood, so I don't know if there are any characters named Harry in it. Sorry if you're disappointed! I went back and revised the warnings/details at the beginning of chapter one to make sure that future readers don't get confused._

_Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Edward is back in the game… the plot thickens! See you guys next time – once again, thanks for all of the reviews._


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